Plastic Beach: Two Dents and Three Friends
by Sable4456
Summary: The story of Plastic Beach(Phase 3) told through the eyes of 2D. Simple and focused on character exploration and drama. Sticking mostly to canon with only a few changes(or filling blanks). No pairings or slash, just the lovely characters and relationship as it is. Some foul language and violence/abuse in later chapters Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1: Kidnapped in Lebanon!

Plastic Beach: Two Dents and Three Friends

 **Author's Note: Hello there! Name's Sable. It's been a really long time since I've written any fanfiction but for a long time I've wanted to give Gorillaz some love in that department, 2D in particular, though I love them all dearly. QwQ Plastic Beach stands as one of my favorite albums as far as premise and concept, having such a great atmosphere and touching drama(if a bit confusing going into Phase 4). I've always imagined what it was like for 2D and Murdoc on being pretty much stranded out on an island for a pretty long time working on the album. 2D being stockholmed and kidnapped and held against his will, Murdoc being the crazy abusive puzzle he is. I developed a sort of headcanon over time and have always wanted to translate it over into a story. So here it is! Being back to writing for the time being, I'm hoping to have the next chapter out in a few days.**

 **Blahblah blah, story time!**

There was something wrong with today. It crept into the mind, clinging to the walls of the dark and dingy flat. It tormented the one who haunted it these days.

2D had felt it ever since he'd woken this morning, like the shadows in the corners of his room were staring at him. Looming eyes as black as his own, invisible in the darkness. To be very fair, he -had- taken an extra half dose of pain meds before bed with his head having been screaming last night.

It was lingering, however. Hours had passed since he got up. He was sitting in his room on his too-small bed still, half-dressed and still rather groggy as he stared at one of his Casio keyboards laying invitingly against the wall in the corner near the door. The silence was pressing… The way the light was coming through the window seemed dimmer than usual. It touched his back without warmth, without comfort.

All of this was starting to really bother him. He held his thin arms around himself, scratching one of them anxiously. Maybe he should play for a bit, that always made him feel better, kept his thoughts from his head. This was probably another dragging bout of homesickness…

Kong Studios hadn't always felt like the best home to have…a zombie-infested house of terror that was so quickly relinquished by it's owner for the price of nothing that someone would have to be daft to actually choose to live in. For Gorillaz, however. It had become band headquarters, home, and much more than that over he years. To 2D, it felt like his only home now. Returning 'home' to visit his mum and dad never felt right, despite how they still loved him and welcomed him any time he chose to visit. He always felt this restlessness nowadays… a need to leave, wander, move.

Go home…

But home wasn't there anymore… Gorillaz was through. Kong Studios was surely still as empty as he'd left it. He knew it would bring to comfort to go there….

-because his bandmates weren't there anymore.  
Not Russel  
Not Murdoc  
And definitely not Noodle…

Even through the pill-hangover haze that fogged up his head, he could always see the faces and memories that haunted him. It had all been well-scorched into his memory.  
The El Manana video shoot…  
A blur of panic and terror as all watched the floating windmill island come crashing down into the canyon. What was supposed to be an amazing stunt for the music video ended with Noodle taking helicopter fire…trapped inside. Noodle. Their little sister, heart-shredding, Asian axe princess Noodle.  
And everything fell to pieces from there on.  
Russel shouting, 2D a shaking wreck, and then Murdoc….Stoic, and seemingly fine with it all.

 _"Annoying we gotta find a new guitarist—"_ He had said only hours later.  
For 'his band'. Green and yellow-skinned son of a sodding-

2D doubted he had ever felt so angry as those days that followed the incident. Russel was gone first…just a brief note left behind. An apology to the band's singer, and some eerily cold words for the bassist.  
2D had still hesitated to go despite his anger, wanting to find a way to put it all back— He knew there had to be a way. But with Russel and Noodle gone, two of the four pieces were already lost. Russel, the caring peacekeeper. And Noodle, loving and down to earth despite everything.  
That left the most dysfunctional of the Gorillaz to carry it on. Murdoc, a certifiable headcase who rarely showed any redeeming emotion, and 2D, fragile and dependent despite his best efforts to amend the situation. Even on the worst days back then, he tried to talk to Muds, tried to understand. Murdoc, formerly his best friend didn't seem to give a damn. About any of it. After Russel left, he'd cursed the drummer. He'd made all sorts of threats on the grieving singer, told him if he left too, he'd find him and kill him. 2D tried not to take this callousness to heart, but he was weakened by loss, and became wearier each day of trying. And when he couldn't bring himself to sing or write anymore, Murdoc beat whatever he could out of him to no avail. 2D could cope with the violence in the past, but things had slowly changed…changed him, and he dreaded it.  
Instead of fearing him, putting up with it like he always did before—2D stood up. In a fit of delirium and anger that was only inevitable, he was ready to leave-  
-when he'd found a note on the counter in the kitchen, an empty bottle of cheap rum smeared and sticky next to it.  
Murdoc had left. On a round-the-world binger, he'd said.

All of that trying…for nothing.  
So 2D had stumbled crying down those steps of Kong Studios for the last time, nothing in his arms, wishing he hadn't tried. He wished he'd just left as soon as Russel did. He'd wanted to believe Murdoc cared about something other than his vision for 'his ultimate band'…that 2D deserved all of the beatings he was given. That Murdoc loved the band the same way the other three did. That maybe they could pull together what was left, bring Russ back.  
But as always, 2D was just too _stupid_ to see through his sugar-coated hopes. That's what he told himself.  
He was fully convinced, of course. People were always calling him dull and childish. One in particular, especially.

No matter how he tried to put it all from his mind, at least once a day he felt that ache in his chest, a hollow longing that made him lose his appetite. Occasionally he'd stay inside all day…sometimes he'd still cry. He still couldn't bring himself to sing. He felt empty nowadays…like all his tears were used up for now. He'd wept them all for his family, and not the one waiting at home for him in Britain…

He pulled himself off his bed, not sure how he did it as his lethargic limbs moved him mechanically along, down the hallway. The sun still hurt his eyes despite it feeling so dark in the room so he grabbed a hat-well-what he thought was a hat—off the pile of clothes he only scarcely kept clean. It wasn't as if it was any less of an eyesore than the apartment it lay in.

Lebanon was nice. Beirut was nice….but the first apartment he found upon arriving here was not so nice. He missed Jamaica, having lived there for almost a year…but just like everywhere else these past years, it soon felt stale and stagnant. Even in picture-perfect weather and great culture someone should thrive in, he soon had to leave. He'd gone a few different places, just searching for something that made him feel less lost. Less like one of the walking dead. He was supposed to love, zombies too, something he'd half-heartedly laughed to himself about at some point.

The blue-haired singer was running out of savings at this rate… A _fruitful_ venture it had all turned out to be.  
He bit back the bitter sarcasm in his own thoughts. Wasn't helping anything. With the lip of his navy-esque green hat dipped over to shield his eyes from some of the light, he made his way into the tiny living area, stopping to stare out the window as he often did. Not that spacing out wasn't always a hobby of his, but he liked this particular view. There was something about the foreign architecture and bustle of the sparser streets outside that held his fascination so well. So humble and yet so…  
…charming. Him being at a stand-still didn't seem so bad when he watched the city like this.

Something burned a bit in the back of his throat, and he realized he needed to drink some water probably.  
Maybe five more minutes of Beirut first.

A bird landed on a mailbox across the street, blurry as the tiny shape was to the man's damaged eyes, he could still see the unmistakable hops of a crow….or raven, maybe. Sort of weird to see a raven in Beirut. But birds could fly so they could be anywhere right? Just like airplanes—Maybe that was wrong…

His eyelids suddenly fluttered heavily, something that alarmed him with how quickly it had happened.

2D suddenly swayed on his feet, unsure of what could be happening and helpless to stop it as his forehead hit the window in front of him with the full force of his weight, eyes closing in an instant. He felt like someone had filled him with liquid lead. The air smelled a bit funny, didn't it? What was that hissing sound?

What the bloody hell? Was he going to sleep now?

His body became heavier and heavier as he was dragged down into the black of unconsciousness, not giving him time to figure it out.

All he could think through a thin dose of fear was that he wanted to go home...even if it was just in his empty-headed dreams at this point. 


	2. Chapter 2: Garbage Island

**Author's Note: Alright, chapter 2 finally ^^ Finally getting to the meat of things. Feel free to review, I know there's not much to the story yet but soon enough. Not wanting to rush through this one.**

The next breath 2D realized he was taking was shallow, entirely uncomfortable. In fact, his whole body was uncomfortable. Each muscle in his back, neck, limbs, and everywhere else was squeezed into a tight ball, aching in sharpening throbs the more he came to.  
"Feh—ouch!" He muttered, realizing his voice was right in his ears. It was utterly dark, his eyes unable to pierce it to see any surroundings. What felt to be four walls were pressed around him, forcing him into the unnatural pose he was in.

"Hh—E-Ello?" He tried, remembering someone had been there when he passed out. Where was he? Did some fans finally find him and kidnap him? He remembered some frightening letters he had received after leaving Gorillaz; and frightening was putting it lightly. The crazed fans had somehow found his mum's address too… He appreciated his fans, but like any, they could go too far. Sometimes he still thought back to before the Gorillaz fully formed. How terrified he had been that his oddly altered appearance would be badly received for the 'ultimate band', especially as a front man. Even he had been chilled to the bone seeing those inky black orbs staring back at him in the mirror for the first time. He didn't look human, he thought. But that was why Murdoc picked him. Well, one of the reasons.

And many people had come to even admire his eyes once they got used to it.  
Almost too much for some of the fans…

He feared many possibilities as he waited for an answer, unable to really wait as he struggled to breathe. His breathing had quickened, siphoning what little oxygen could enter his tiny prison. He became dizzy, head aching so badly from being pressed up against the leathery wall that a wave of nausea came over him.  
"Someone, please..? I can' breathe in 'ere… Anyone?" His voice grew fainter and he squinted at the effect it all had on his head. He dreaded the fact that he knew his pills had been left behind. Damnit.  
"''Ello…?"

No answer…only a faint sound he couldn't place. Sort of a 'whooshing' that grew and fell. What did it remind him of? It felt so obvious but he couldn't place it.

Was he going to die in here? No, there had to be a way. He could move a little.  
Ignoring his head as best he could, he wiggled in the confined space, grunting. He managed to get one of his lanky legs up against a wall, pushing. It hurt so badly he knew he couldn't keep it up for long. He cursed under his breath in pain, trying to pull his leg out of the position and finding himself stuck.  
"F—'Ello!? Come on, why'd you kidnap me for if you're gonna jus' lock me up in-S' this a suitcase!? 'Ello!?" He shouted this time, voice losing it's air immediately. He was forced to breath tiny shallow breaths, dizzier and dizzier as his own exhaling was doing him in.

He thought of giving up…just going to sleep. Suffocating wasn't a fun way to go out by any means, but it beat some things, right?  
His eyelids fell closed, not that it mattered. He tried to calm his thoughts, empty out his mostly empty head, so he believed. He could feel the delirium setting in, misplaced song lyrics starting to play over the rushing sound outside. Yeah…maybe this wasn't so bad. Were those footsteps he was hearing now?  
-WHUMP  
-until a sudden impact struck the wall of the suitcase. 2D hadn't realized that the container was on a hill….not until the black void around him spun and crashed against unseen terrain as it tumbled.  
"AAAahhuuu—Eck'-Ahhh Owwch—AuuhAAAAHHH." A ramble of screaming and gasping as each bump sent a white flash across his vision, his head screaming along with him. He finally came to a stop, a voice outside catching his attention and making his whimpering go quiet.  
"Aha, see? There he is! I told you, Cyborg, the post always comes at a _ridiculous_ hour out 'ere. And no knock either. Bloody rude if you ask me…"

 _Was that….?  
There was absolutely no doubt it was-_

"Oi! Murdoc!? Focking'—Lemme out of 'ere! Where do you get off—You—you-" 2D's anger rose quickly, his head protesting and his lungs doing similarly as he demanded freedom. He couldn't keep it up though, going quiet as he nearly went unconscious with that last string of words. There was no welcome reception from him for his green-skinned friend, and clearly there was no warm welcome for 2D either!

"Shhh, shhh, faceache, calm yer shit. Don't wanna croak in there _now_ , do you?" The man laughed, sounding his usual combination of malicious and pleasant, all twisted up with that awful voice like he'd gargled some nails and drank a gallon of pickle juice.  
The way the man always seemed to enjoy the blue-haired man's misery like the highest form of comedy was baffling.

It sent an unpleasant shiver down 2D's spine. He wanted to protest but found himself nodding off, simply whimpering something he knew was unintelligible. Something angry, he thought.

Boots stomped their way over, spindly fingers fiddling with the latches on the case.

"I'll take that silence as peace well-made…-Ell, how'd they even fit you in 'ere...?" The green-skinned man grumbled thoughtfully under his breath as he struggled with the latches. They were probably stuck with 2D's body pressing so much from within, straining the little flip-locks.

"Cyborg, a little assistance luv? Can't get it open. Completely jammed."  
Another set of footsteps made 2D tense up.

Did he say…. _Cyborg_? Was 2D simply delirious from lack of oxygen?

Another scream that could have been his last squeezed from the singer's lungs as what he was sure was gunfire sounded right next to his head, completely killing his sense of hearing for a few moments. Nothing but shrill ringing filled his senses. Another shot forced a whimper from him again before the case suddenly gave way to his leg pressing against it, a rush of crisp—very smelly air filling his lungs. He gasped it in desperately, no matter how it offended. The blue-haired man pushed himself up quickly, tearing out onto the ground where he collapsed on sore muscles.

"Oi oi, oi! Hold it, dullard!" Murdoc called at him, growling in frustration. "Where the hell deh you think yer goin'? Fucking idiot." Murdoc's voice was garbled with ringing still but 2D was well-tuned to the voice, cringing at the feeling of crunching…plastic? Paper? It smelled sweet and foul, salty…Salty? The air all around was thick with the unmistakable reek of seawater. Ripe seawater at that. He squinted painfully, the sun so bright he shuddered with the pain it placed in his head.  
"Gonna flop off into the big blue like a brainless fish?" The bassist trudged over to 2D while he tried and failed to get up fully.  
….Blue? His fathomless eyes finally adjusted to the burn of white light…an expanse of deep blue filling his vision as he lifted his head. So that was the whooshing…. That was the sodding ocean…

How did…-  
He stared off dumbly at it, stuttering with furrowed brows.

"See that, dullard? You're in my slice of paradise now. Don't think of running off this time. Nowhere to go anyway. As even _your_ empty tin can can figure out, I'm sure.." A heavy boot pressed on 2D's head, and he shuddered violently at the pain and nausea radiating in his skull.

The singer shirked and gasped in agony as the same boot struck him atop his blue head, drawing the tears that he knew could not stay away forever. God, Murdoc, why did it always have to be the head?  
"Now geddup! Got a new album we're gonna work on….jus' you and me. Got a fresh batch of demos that yer gonna sing. _Eh?_ Should be fun, right? _"_ " The threat was low and clear, if a bit tame for Murdoc- but 2D couldn't even process what these things meant yet.

"Welcome to Plastic Beach, mate."

Plastic Beach? Was this a new Barbie brand deal?


	3. Chapter 3: Deaf Ears

**I just wanted to say, thank you so much for anyone who stops by to read. I know this fic is a little slower than some, I just really want it to take it's time and be immersive without jumping around too much. It's good to jump around too sometimes to build a story and have good pacing, but I want the sort of lost, sincere, and reflective tone I often feel from Plastic Beach(album) to be felt here, which was my inspiration for the story. And I think that requires a bit of a slower pace. Enjoy if you can!**  
 **-Sable**

"W—wot? Plastic Beach…?" 2D blinked slowly, realizing what the warm sun-baked plastic under his hands meant with this new information. He turned his head, scruffy locks of blue hair tugging under Murdoc's shoe. Off to his left….pink. Stark against all of the blue around them. The entire shore rounded off around the corner…..all garbage, seemingly. Pink garbage. He still had to squint to see, the sun so bright on his eyes.  
"Yeah? Wot, did the lack of oxygen finally kill the rest of the sense in yer brain?" Murdoc was growing more and more irritated.

"S'at….pink?"

"Yes, yes, you're missing the biggest part here, Dents. Turn that empty head around and maybe you'll see it!" The sharp-treaded boot finally lifted in mercy from the singer's head so he could fully turn, gaping up, open mouth and all at the sight that had been behind him this whole time…

Murdoc scowled impatiently, a captain's hat and a tank top on. His skin looking darker green than last 2D had seen him but that was about all the detail the blue-haired man could take in before his focus shifted entirely to the towering structure behind the bass-player.

His stomach dropped a little.  
Pink…half a mile high, stark white architecture in curves and wide stylized windows with palm trees sprouting here and there from a topper of green that served as a nest-like bed for the huge building.  
The whole thing seemed to glow with the bright colors, so unnatural underneath the sun. And yet it was beautiful.

It was all so perfect, smooth and painted up. Odd curvature standing out so much somehow. Artificial in every way. It was a symbol, yes.

All made of plastic. A paradise of plastic.  
Was this the album?  
Was that the studio?  
Would-  
Would he get to work in this studio?  
On a Gorillaz album?

His heart was actually racing.

"M….Muds—Holy heck, issat-? Issat really?"  
2D was finding himself utterly lost for words. Maybe it was his headache, the lack of oxygen for god knows how long. Maybe it was the alarming nature of this situation.

Or maybe he'd just felt that something again for the first time in years.  
That something that spoke to his musician's soul like the most powerful of siren's songs.

Murdoc heckled at his reaction, reaching out to muss his hair in that impossibly harsh way that always left 2D feeling like he'd just gotten some green rubbed off in his blue hair. He was still staring in awe even if he was being laughed at.  
"Truly is. Impressive, eh?"

"Y-yeah, it really is…" 2D murmured earnestly, ever-honest even when it made him look like a fool. It wasn't long though before he realized he shouldn't be feeling this way or gawking. He was just kidnapped! This was Murdoc's insanity all over again.  
2D had left, and meant it. He always meant it. He'd broken his own heart to do it and it hurt to see it all dismissed. It hurt so much to be here again. This was unfair. It made him so angry to feel his emotions being played with. He knew it was Murdoc's intentions. He expected 2D to just go along with it all. Forget the past.  
He was wrong.

"B-But wait, no! Nono no. I'm not staying 'ere. Yer ridiculous; crazy—I'm not working on any album with you. You think you can jus' kidnap me, an'—no! I won' do it Murdoc. Not this time. An', an' you should know why—" 2D blurted in hysterics, still half-dazed but quickly coming to his senses.

Murdoc leered at him, seemingly unaffected other than a snarl coming on his lips that grew subtly as the string of words went on.  
"An' that's-that's all I haff to say." Already tears were coming to 2D's eyes, betraying the assertiveness he was trying to express. "He wanted to say more, but was afraid of his waning integrity as the moisture welled up in his shining black eyes.

"Yeah? All sounds real convincin'. But you know what I think, dullard…?"  
2D shirked at that glare as Murdoc leaned in closer, yellowed eyes staring with stony resolve into his own. Resolve that seemed to crush his.  
His voice came in a whisper, voice somehow softer. Less grating. And much more threatening.

"I think you don' have a choice 'ere…. And eventually you're going to go along with it just like you always do. Because yer nothing without me, or this band…. I didn't have to see it. I knew you was out there wasting away, 2D. Lost and whimpering just like a puppy without an owner. Yer airheaded. Clumsy. Funny-lookin'. Childish." Each insult hit sharply in 2D's chest. "Couldn't do a damn thing on yer own. No use to anyone. And you know it too, don't you dullard…?"  
That last statement hit truer than all of the rest, each wave of doubt and self-ruin reminding the singer that it was all true.

He believed all of those things, even without Murdoc having to say it.  
Tears finally ran down his face again, more tears than he had shed in months. It was all fresh again. He knew what he'd finally forgotten back in Lebanon.

Without Gorillaz, he really was nothing. He had no home that felt like home. No friends. No integrity. No voice. He was spacey, and had a hard time with day to day responsibilities. He forgot so much. He messed everything up. He wasn't himself.

Way back when he was still working in Uncle Norm's Organ Emporium, he knew he had no future. No noteworthy aspirations. Talent, but no idea where to put it.  
And now again, without Gorillaz, he had no future.

Murdoc had in a sense… _made him_.  
He was Frankenstein's monster, walking around without his creator. Without a purpose. Even if he hated the fact. It had always been like a ghost following him around. Or maybe he had been the ghost.

"Hhh…-" All he could do was cry, any words he may have had in reply seizing up in his throat.

"It's okay, though, innit? You ran off, learned yer lesson—"

"N-no, Muds. I can'….Noodle and Russ. It's all broken…" 2D's voice finally came, stammering and weak. This all felt like some kind of backslide and it hurt like hell. His emotions got the better of him, melting his resolve. "I—I just can'…I don' understand how you can. You-you—s'like you didn' care."

"Sure I cared. Bloody sad. But it happened and it's done. Can't cry about it. Too much to be done, still."

"S—see? That. Thas' jus'…"

"Quit crying, sweet Satan! It was just us blokes before, right? Still a band." Murdoc crossed his arms lazily.

"You _know_ iss' not the same, Muds! Why did you bring me 'ere?" The blue-topped singer's emotions finally came to a head as he cried tear after tear onto the pink plastic. His toes curled inside of the socks he wore. It all felt so raw even after so long. He felt sick to his stomach, head spinning. Why were they even arguing like this on some beach? This was all over and done with years ago.

"Isn't it fucking obvious? Cus' we're the last of Gorillaz. And we got a job, yeah? Not just fer me dream, either. Everything it stood for. The music, and all that…. Boating around the world had me thinkin' a lot about it." Murdoc's tone was surprisingly low and calm with those words but 2D wasn't having it.

"Iss' not Gorillaz without Russ and Noodle, an' you can' go and—"

"It's gonna bloody have to be, faceache…" The green-skinned man's tone shifted back to irritation. "And yer gonna have to face it." He lifted his head from looking down at the singer, barking an order suddenly at something behind 2D… Odd how he didn't seem to really look at whoever it was. Barely an acknowledgement.  
"Cyborg, knock 'im out—I'm getting a headache."

2D spun his head around, as much as it hurt too. When did anyone get behind hi-

The butt of a rifle that 2D had somehow forgot about firing earlier struck him square in the head with enough force that he went immediately down, head flashing in hideous colors before his eyes.  
"…Gonna take you some time thinking bout it, dullard. But you'll see it my way…."

The ringing pain in 2D's head did nothing to stop the black fading in around him, Murdoc's voice ending off in a weird echoing gurgle…

With the gentle crash of the tides behind them, he almost sounded like he was underwater.


	4. Chapter 4: Unwelcome

**Sorry for the delay on this one! It was a bit longer than the previous chapters and I had a bit of trouble having it come out the way I wanted. Time to get poor 2D settled in his new hel-I mean home! .  
-Sable**

When he could next open his eyes, 2D nearly hesitated to. A wave of pain and nausea rushed through his head to the rest of his body, reminding him of not only the many knocks his head had recently taken since he was taken from Beirut, but the crippling migraines that came without his prescription painkillers.

Familiar pain that would only get worse.

He tried to lift his head, shuddering at the pain and disorientation that alone brought. After clutching tightly to his head with watery eyes for a few moments, he decided to roll onto his side instead for now, squinting around to try and place where he was. He was laying on a bed now instead of on a pink shore, the blanket sort of scratchy on his bare arms.

It looked unfamiliar, a foreign smell around him that mixed with that of new paint? A spacious but unwelcoming room met his eyes. The walls were burnt red in color, his blurred vision not finding any signs of decorations or wall hangings. The light source in the room was two industrial-looking fluorescent bulb set inside of metal bindings, harsh on the eyes but barely enough to light the walls. The door was unusual, appearing metallic and without a proper doorknob. A sort of wheel-like red handle was there instead. There looked to be another room connected to this one, maybe a bathroom? Where was this? How did he-

Oh. Right…. Murdoc.

The rest of the memories of what had happened faded back in and 2D curled up in distress as he thought it all over. The words exchanged, the green bassist's behavior, how it had changed or stayed the same, the prospect of the new album on the horizon, the possibility that Murdoc's threatening words had meant 2D was trapped here with him on an island, what might happen ne-

A sudden knock at the door snapped him out of his string of thoughts, and not a light one. It almost sounded like someone had knocked their _head_ against the door rather than a fist. 2D hoped not…

That would hurt.

"Y—Yea? 'Ello?" He said weakly, wondering if it was Murdoc again and feeling a sting of anger.

No reply came. The thick metal door groaned loudly as whoever it was cranked the handle on the other side like a valve, the hinges finally creaking open. The blue-haired singer felt especially vulnerable in his pained and still-dazed state, pushing himself up and retreating back toward the edge of the bed behind him. Aware he had no idea what exactly was behind him, he gave a quick glance, seeing a shelf-like protrusion along the entirety of the wall that the bed was pushed against and another wall behind the pillow alongside a pipe-like pillar that came straight up through the floor. A round porthole adorned with a humble curtain seemed to be the window but he had no time to inspect, his head flipping back around to see who was coming into the room.

"M-Murdoc?"

No?

2D squinted, wincing at any strain of his eyes. This figure didn't look like Murdoc, nothing like Murdoc at all. In fact, every millisecond it took for the singer to take in the person standing near the door, the more he didn't believe what his eyes were telling him.

Short stature, thin frame. A dark curtain of soft black hair that fell in her eyes and caressed a round face that 2D could never mistake. The dark clothes and military cap threw him off slightly, but there was no doubt it was-

Noodle!

"N—"

2D's voice cracked and his fists clenched as he nearly leapt out of the bed, migraine or no migraine and made his way over to her nervously, a smile making its way into his tired and frightened expression. He was in shock, he knew. Could this really be happening?

He clenched and unclenched his hands anxiously.  
"Noodle?" He leaned down, his gangly form being so much taller than her, to look at her face, her body language beginning to seem odd the longer 2D observed. He never was very quick to realize things but it was clear something was wrong. Why wasn't she responding? She stared him in the eyes, expression void of emotion. Dead.  
"Are you alright, love…? You look-"  
His smile faded, something in the back of his mind telling him that he should be afraid. Not for her, as he already was—but

For himself…

He had been about to hug her maybe, check her for injuries or to make sure she was even there at all and not a mirage, but he stopped himself, shirking back with wide eyes at this feeling he had. It was only then that he noticed she was holding something in front of her, nearly camouflaged in the black leather of her clothing.  
The dark shine of a deadly-looking gun, the barrel and shape of the stock enough for 2D to know it was a small rifle of some sort….especially now that it was raised, cold metal pressing through his shirt against his stomach.  
He'd rushed over without even looking—but how could he have known? What was happening?!

A confused jumble of emotions overcame him and he stuttered, taking a quick step back.

Noodle stepped forward with him, keeping the mouth of the gun just inches away and raising it slightly, her poise and mannerisms like the most well trained soldier. No emotion, only actions. 2D raised his arms and hands in front of himself reflexively, stammering once again as he tried to reason out that this was really happening. The pit of dread in his stomach ached with every moment he stared into Noodle's eyes. Something despairing and awful seemed to coil around his heart as he realized…

Something was very, very off with the girl standing before him. Her eyes weren't Noodle's. It wasn't her. There was an unnatural sheen to her skin, her eyes were glassy and unblinking…. The younger sister and friend he knew was not here, whether this was some sort of trick or clone- or-

He would have tried to reason out why this could be possible but he could feel the panic rising in him, the uncanny Noodle with a gun pointed at him suddenly too much for him to handle. His breath was short and his shoulders were hunched in a defenseless stance, fingers tangling together as he could feel tears stinging his eyes. She seemingly paid no mind to any of his reactions, simply pushing him steadily backward with the gun, step by step until he was at the bed again. She finally spoke in a voice that was Noodle's, but cold and holding a peculiar rattle like it was coming through a metallic source.

"Murdoc, he is awake. What is your desired protocol?"

As if over an unseen radio, 2D could hear Murdoc's voice muttering belligerently from one of Noodle's…..ears? It was too quiet for the singer to make out. He sounded irritated as ever, possibly cursing at the girl. 2D didn't know how to feel about any of it, tears escaping one after the other down his cheeks.

He wanted to speak, but couldn't, throat tight and trembling.

"Yes. His response is emotional…. Understood." Noodle finished her conversation with Murdoc as the green bassist growled some more and the radio went quiet.

Her eyes were already on 2D, chillingly, but she seemed to be speaking to the singer this time, grip still firmly on the gun she held.  
"Murdoc would like me to relay this information. You are to wait here for him to speak with you. You are not to make any demands. You are not to leave this room unless instructed. You are not to refer to me as Noodle. I am not this Noodle you presume me to be by my appearance. I am a replica created in her image from DNA recovered at the crash site of—"

2D's eyes widened even more. "Wait-!"

She stopped, something he had somehow not expected.

"Murdoc did this? Made you? Why?" His shaking voice held itself together for the moment, a horrible emotion seizing in him while he stared in terror.

"—To act as a guitarist, bodyguard, or any other replacement to discourage bad press due to Noodle's disappearance." She answered, flat and unfeeling.

"Replacement-!? But you're—Aren't you human?"

"No. A robot replica. A cyborg."  
Cyborg…so that's what Murdoc was talking to before.  
Murdoc had made some fake Noodle to keep the press off, replacing her as if she had never been here, using that replacement as a servant, looking at her every day. Every day he looked this thing in the eye and gave it orders. When the real Noodle was—Nonono, this was sick. Murdoc, callous and unorthodox as he was had gone too far. Much, much too far. This was inhuman.

"We—WHY!? We don' need a replacement!" 2D's voice suddenly leaped out of his throat at a higher volume, that feeling growing stronger. Unease, disgust, fear, anger. A cocktail that made him so sick he could have doubled over were he not so livid. His tears were for so many emotions now, the urge to just scream almost overcoming him.

"Your questions will no longer be answered, Dullard. The desired information has been passed to you."  
 _Did she just formally refer to him as-_  
"Like hell they—No! Where's Murdoc!?" 2D's voice cracked a painful pitch, head throbbing with it all. "What the hell is he thinking!?" A sob wracked it's way through him but he wouldn't let it fully take him.

Cyborg's gun was there so quickly against his head, he fell back, half-sitting on the bed with his elbows catching him. His legs were outstretched, socks slipping slightly as the robot stood over him. It still shook him to his core that it was Noodle's face looking at him like that. No signature mischievous smile, no pout, no warmth at all. A hollow shell sent here to remind him that she was still gone. That the band was broken…possibly forever. Somehow this alone was enough to break whatever spirit he had been showing and the tension and anger in him faded to trembling in fear, teary eyes wide and fearful as they stared into Cyborg's. Would she shoot him…? What had Murdoc ordered her to do?

Cyborg was no longer speaking in reply to him, quietly carrying out her orders like before, even if they were threatening 2D with death for stepping out of line.

This was an incredible new level Murdoc had gone to for 'the good of the band'.

"S—Sorry. Sorry—I…No demands, right?"" The singer whimpered, staring like a doe in the headlights, staring mortality in the face. The metal of the gun was sharp and icy as it made a red mark in his forehead, ready to be hot with gunpowder at any moment.

Cyborg leaned away at the apology, or admission of weakness, rather…. pulling the gun away from his head.

She wouldn't speak to him again, the information had been given, as she said… She wasn't here to answer his questions or even interact with him.

She was here to keep him in check.

Something too terrible to be relief washed over 2D as the threat to his life passed and he began shaking in small sobs, wishing the murderous spectre of Noodle away as his aching head tried its best to absorb any of this. His skull throbbed in waves spinning with his migraine and the strain the crying was causing it.  
Cyborg waited there observing him for a few minutes maybe, he wasn't really sure when, only knowing she had dismissed herself by the grating turns of the valve doorknob and the soft slide and clatter of a lock. 2D curled into a fetal position on what was apparently his new bed for the time being, knowing he wouldn't be able to stop crying for some time. He could only let all of these feelings out, wave after wave while his thoughts swam with it all.

He hoped Murdoc wouldn't come any time soon. He didn't know if he could handle it, squeezing his eyes shut with a bitter taste in his mouth. Hunger gnawed inside of his stomach but he knew he couldn't eat a nibble of anything even if he wanted to. And who knew when Murdoc might decide to bring food, or water, or anything. He knew with a shudder that this situation was grim. Murdoc could hit him, starve him, lock him up for weeks if he didn't work on that album with him. 2D didn't know what to do.

God, this migraine hurt so bad…

And all he could do about any of this….as always…

Was endure. 


End file.
